


Between seven and eight

by Hollow and Merciless (HollowandMerciless)



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Crying, Emotional Porn, Emotional Sex, Emotions, First Time, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Grief/Mourning, M/M, One Shot, Porn with Feelings, Sadness, Short One Shot, Smut, Spoilers, Tears, suppressed emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23263024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowandMerciless/pseuds/Hollow%20and%20Merciless
Summary: A short story about how Gintoki and Hijikata became close through mutual grief
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	Between seven and eight

**Author's Note:**

> We noticed that after the Shogun Assasination arc, and during the Farewell Shinsengumi arc, something had changed in the dynamics between Gintoki and HIjikata. In a positive way. They seemed more comfortable around each other.  
> So we concluded something must have happened between episode 307 and 308, hence the title.  
> The title can also been read as the time during which the story took place, just before dusk.

“He’s dead.” The devastating message came from a man pale with sorrow and anger, fists clenched and eyes dark. “They killed him, after all.”

A heavy silence fell between them.

“But… how?” Gintoki asked, his voice coarse not only from his injuries but more so from the news he was still unable to grasp.

“Someone he trusted. A poisoned needle. No one could have prevented this but the man himself, had he not been so damn trusting to his friends.”

“It was someone he knew?” Gintoki gasped as he sat up, then coughed painfully.

“Don’t push yourself,” the other man said, with a surprising tenderness in his voice before he continued: “Someone he’d considered a lifelong friend.” He sighed. “He killed himself before Matsudaira’s men could get to him, so no one has been able to ask him questions.”

“Damn it,” Gintoki said. And again, louder: “ _Damn it._ ”

“It was all for nothing,” He fumbled in his pockets, took a pack of cigarettes out and put one in his mouth without lighting it. “All of it. All those wounded, all those deaths. For nothing.” He moved to the exit.

“Thanks for telling me,” Gintoki said. He fell back on his pillow as he watched him leave, and closed his eyes, clenching his teeth. From both of his eyes a hot tear escaped, rolling down his face onto the pillow.

Hijikata didn’t visit him again for the entirety of his hospital stay, but as soon as he was back home, and the children were out, he knocked on his door. He didn’t wear his uniform, and was dressed in a dark yukata. The autumn wind blew some leaves in when he entered. Gintoki leaned in to close the door behind him, but Hijikata, aware of his wounds, the crutch he leaned on, did it for him and pushed him back a little. The moment he touched him, Gintoki raised his one good arm and pulled him into a half-assed embrace, a wounded man both looking for comfort as well as providing it. Hijikata hugged him back, using way too much force, holding back way too many emotions, and Gintoki groaned, but only briefly, because Hijikata looked up, startled and cringing from another piece of guilt on top off all the other ones, and his lips brushed along Gintoki’s – Gintoki, who, without a second of doubt, kissed those lips, and Hijikata’s eyes went wide, but the next moment he felt that rage, all those suppressed feelings, escape, and he pushed Gintoki against the wall of his hallway, kissing him violently, grinding his body against that of the other man.

Gintoki’s moans weren’t caused by the pain of the wounds tearing open and starting to bleed again, nor by the sudden yearning rushing through his body. It was the pain he hadn’t been able to feel yet, the loss of everything, the reunion with people whose names were etched on the darkest pages of his book, pages he’d never meant to open again. He had to kiss, to hurt, to bite and grind, or else he’d cry, and he couldn’t show his tears, not in front of this man.

Hijikata forced his lower body against him and was immediately hard, and Gintoki was the same. His crutch fell on the floor, and he was kind of hanging on one leg, but Hijikata held him up, forced him almost. They were a ferocious mess of biting kisses, angry moans and bucking hips. Gintoki’s wounds bled through the bandages, onto his white yukata until Hijikata managed to pull it off of him, dropping it on the hallway floor. His hands sought their way into his shirt, and while he carefully managed to avoid the bandages, his fingers found the nub of Gintoki’s nipple and rubbed it, squeezed it, while all the while they still kissed, moaning in each other’s mouth.

Gintoki was able to only use one hand, and that hand slid down Hijikata’s back, following the arch of it, lower until he found the softness of his bum and buried his fingers in the flesh, making Hijikata moan and grind harder.

“My room,” Gintoki gasped as they took a short breath between kisses, and Hijikata, bewildered, supported him as they went there. Gintoki had not made his bed since the morning, it was still as messy as the moment he left it. Hijikata shut the sliding door behind him. He undid his obi, shook off his yukata and breeches before joining Gintoki, who kneeled down on his futon and struggled with his shirt.

Hijikata gasped as he saw the reality of his wounds, the bruises and bloodstained bandages, and helped him lie down. They made eye contact as he took Gintoki’s pants off, but there was nothing but consent in those burgundy eyes, lust even, and impatience. He tugged Hijikata in, pushing him against his chest, and they kissed and made out, grinding their hips into each other, immersing in the sensation.

“Fuck me,” Gintoki said, bluntly. Hijikata’s eyes went wide, then a giant throb of his dick affirmed that this was what he wanted as well, and he took his last clothes off, and pulled Gintoki’s boxers down. Neither of them had been with a man before, but there was no embarrassment, no shame, only this carnal need to feel alive, to release all that anger. Hijikata plunged onto him, kissing him again, so violent he tasted blood, all the while tantalised to a rage by Gintoki’s bucking hips.

“Fuck me, damn it,” Gintoki repeated. He reached out with his good arm and found a small bottle.

Hijikata didn’t ask questions, how it got there, what he used it for. He raised and spread Gintoki’s legs and applied the lubricant to his ass.

“You don’t need to be careful,” Gintoki said. “Just do it, damn it. Whatever pain this is gonna be, it won’t be as bad as…”

Hijikata kissed him while he shoved a finger in. “Shh,” he said. “You talk too much.” Gintoki moaned. Another finger. He had no idea what exactly he was doing, but he did know he wanted nothing more than to fuck this man. He poured lubricant on his dick and pressed against Gintoki’s hole.

“Do it,” Gintoki said. His dick jumped.

He knew he was going to hurt him, but he needed this, _they_ needed this. Gintoki winced as he briefly closed his eyes, but then he raised his hips. “Deeper.” His voice was coarse.

Carefully, Hijikata pushed in, overwhelmed by the heat, the tightness, the slickness, and he clenched his teeth as he tried not to give in to the urge to chase relief immediately.

Two hands clasped around his hips. “It fucking hurts.” Gintoki groaned. “It doesn’t fucking hurt enough.” There was despair in the way he pulled him in, and tears in the corners of his eyes. Hijikata knew exactly what he meant, and went in to the hilt. Gintoki let out a long moan, expressing both lust and agony. The bloodstains on his bandages grew as Hijikata started fucking him, slowly at first, but giving in to his lust as the sensation overwhelmed him.

Gintoki cursed, but his arms slid up, to Hijikata’s neck, and pulled him in, forced them to look each other in the eyes. Both saw the same, the pain, the failure, the _frustration_. Hijikata wanted to get rid of the anguish, wanted to forget, and he thrusted harder and deeper, chasing his release.

A loud “Ah!” from Gintoki messed up his rhythm, and he paused.

“Don’t stop,” Gintoki said, his face red and his expression… different.

“ _Don’t_?”

Gintoki shook his head. “Please.” His voice was small, all of a sudden.

Hijikata, confused, took up his pace again, and found Gintoki moaning within seconds.

“Damn it… aahh… it’s not supposed… ah… to feel _GOOD,_ fuck, ah!” He was so hot to look at, his white hair all messy and damp, and his cheeks burning, and the words he uttered were so… passionate. Hijikata was barely able to hold in anymore, but he wanted to… he wanted to… _see_ how this ended, to see if he could… His thoughts were drowned in Gintoki’s cries, and he witnessed the miracle unfold in front of his eyes; Gintoki who completely lost it and then came, in long, intense squirts, and kept coming as Hijikata pounded him through his orgasm, and then he also came, hard and intense, pushed over the edge by the contractions of Gintoki’s ass.

He fell down on his chest, damp, out of breath, thirsty, satisfied… crying. His eyes were wet, and he felt an arm around his back, sliding off, to his neck, his jaw, his cheek. A thumb wiped his tears away, then a kiss on that same cheek. He raised his head, and looked into eyes that were the same.

Gintoki embraced him with both his arms, as if he tried to crush him. It didn’t help. At all. He didn’t fight the tears back anymore and closed his eyes. Beneath him was a steady heartbeat which became his compass, proof that at least something important was still very much alive. After what seemed like a very long time he moved a bit, and his dick slid out, which elicited a small moan from Gintoki’s lips, and with that, the embrace was in the past, and so was their mutual moment of weakness. Hijikata rolled over and nestled himself on the futon next to Gintoki, his arm on the wounded chest, fingers absentmindedly playing with a loose thread of his bandage. There was no need to speak, no need to apologise or explain or whatever words could ruin what was there, just like no words would ever be enough to heal what had been lost.

There was only their breaths, and the faint noises from outside, passers-by, an occasional airship, birds, a barking dog, the wind. It was as if everything was _fine_ , as if the nation had _not_ lost the person who impersonated everything they stood for. Gintoki took Hijikata’s hand, and their fingers intertwined.

“I’m gonna wash myself,’ Gin said after a while. Hijikata released his hand and regretted the sudden cold as Gintoki got up and left for the bathroom. He sat up, lost in thought, and started gathering their clothes, making the bed – the evening was near, it would be dusk within half an hour at most. With his yukata draped around his shoulders he waited, craving for a cigarette.

As soon as Gintoki returned, he went to the bathroom as well to clean himself, and when he was dressed again, he joined him on the balcony, finally able to light that smoke. Their elbows touched as he inhaled deeply.

“What are you going to do next,” Gintoki asked.

“I don’t know,” Hijikata said. He honestly had no idea. The Shinsengumi had been dismantled, and… “Keep fighting for my ideals, I guess.”

“We’re not that different, are we,” Gintoki said.


End file.
